


A Tragic Connection

by mggislife2789



Category: Criminal Minds, Spencer Reid - Fandom
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 15:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11164455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mggislife2789/pseuds/mggislife2789
Summary: Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)





	A Tragic Connection

After being debriefed of the few details they had, Hotch told everyone to meet on the jet. Two hours later, they’d arrived in Nebraska. All they had was that the man was in his late-40s and had been brutally murdered with a knife by way of his genitals being severed with an extremely sharp knife. A few of the local officers joined them in the conference room as they started to go over what they had.

“Well, I don’t think anyone can deny that being killed by having your genitals ripped off has to mean something,” you said. It could very well be that the unsub had an issue with themselves regarding sex or their gender that stemmed out into murder, or it could be revenge for something the victim had done, or a representation of the victim. There were so many possibilities. 

Hotch quickly asked Garcia to bring up any arrest records on the man that had been identified as convenience store owner, Jared Mosedich, age 47. “Mr. Mosedich is not as squeaky clean as he appears to be at first glance,” she said, bringing up every possible piece of information she had on him. “Up until a couple of years ago, he was your everyday ordinary guy. He had a wife and three kids, all boys. He paid his bills on time. Owned a home. Had a car. Seemed relatively normal. Until two years ago, when he was accused of raping a 16-year-old employee. The alleged victim, Lydia Dessen, claimed that one night after work, while she was waiting for a friend to pick her up, Jared pinned her to the wall of the store and raped her. He was eventually acquitted after Lydia claimed that she couldn’t testify against him. She couldn’t see him again, so he got away with it.”

“Or he didn’t do it,” Officer Stanton said from the back. “Innocent until proven guilty?”

You swallowed hard. It was likely to assume that someone wanted to make him suffer from what he’d done to Lydia, hence the killing through genital mutilation. “We have to look through all possible lenses, Officer,” Hotch said quickly. 

As the only daughter of a single mother, you and your mother were close, so when your employee for your crappy, minimum-wage job cornered you in his office, held a knife to your throat and told you to keep quiet or he’d kill your mother, all the while running his hand up your legs, you’d been too scared to do anything else. You cried as he violated you, his cigarette-stained hands silencing your cries of pain mixed with gagging over the smell of him. It was barely three minutes later when he said he was done with you, to go home, and never speak of it again or he’d make good on his threat. 

The tears stung your eyes as you realized that someone had probably taken this man out for what he’d done to Lydia, but you quickly shook the emotions off. He never got to pay for what he did, so someone made him pay. Apparently, you’d been spaced out for quite a few minutes, because when your mind returned to the conversation, the same officer was saying that he knew Jared Mosedich and that he was a good man. “The girl” had been troubled and “had a history of telling lies.” Victim-blaming at its finest. 

“Did you know Lydia?” you asked.

“Who?” He was actually serious. 

“The girl,” you said more emphatically. “The girl’s name is Lydia. Did you know her?” He shook his head quickly, as if it had nothing to do with what he was saying. “Then you don’t know anything of her history.” 

You opened your mouth to continue talking, rant at him about what a misogynistic prick he sounded like, but you stopped yourself, watching as Spencer’s eyes fell on you, asking questions you weren’t sure you wanted to answer. Hotch gave everyone their orders; you and Spencer would be interviewing Lydia and her parents.

On the way there, you said nothing, not trusting yourself to speak. There was this overwhelming feeling inside you that you were going to share your own story with Lydia, meaning Spencer would know too. Fifteen minutes later, you entered their house. She had been very upfront with her parents about what happened and they were 100 percent supportive, so when you asked her if you could speak alone about what happened, she said she’d talk, but she wanted her parents to be there. 

Spencer sat behind you, allowing you to take the lead. Although he probably assumed that she wouldn’t want to be interviewed by a man, he didn’t realize that you and Lydia shared a tragic connection. “I was waiting for a friend of mine to come pick me up after work one night. My friend said she was going to be a few minutes late because she was sneaking out of her face to come get me to go to a party, and when I went to get something out of my bag, Jared came up behind me and pushed me against the wall.” Her eyes started to water and she shivered, despite the fact that it was the middle of the summer and she was wearing a long-sleeve shirt. “I didn’t know what was happening. He placed his hand on my throat and pushed up my skirt. It was like 2 minutes and I pushed him and begged him to stop, but he didn’t. When he was done, he just dropped me to the floor and left.” She looked up at you both, tears streaming down her face. “Why would you believe me? No one but my parents do.”

“I do,” you said confidently. “I believe you.”

“Why? How can you believe me? You don’t even know me.”

You sighed, turning back to Spencer. His look of confusion would be wiped away momentarily. “I know me. I know what I looked like and what I felt like when I was raped and I can see the same thing in you.” It was barely audible, but you heard a gasp at your back. You’d never let on that anything like this had happened to you before. “I was about your age when I was raped by my employer. He held a knife to my throat in his office and told me if I ever told anyone, he’d kill my mother. I’ve never told anyone until now. Until you.” 

Lydia’s face dropped, knowing instantly that you were being truthful. After asking her what questions you needed to ask, and giving her a hug, you and Spencer left the house in silence. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said finally.

“It’s in the past,” you said. It wasn’t. When something like that happened to you it never really was, but you said it anyway. “I’m just glad she could hear that she’s not alone.” Everything you’d been feeling over the past couple of hours came flooding out, the tears stinging your eyes and cheeks as they poured out of you. “I’m sorry, I just…”

Getting out of the car, Spencer walked over the driver’s side and reached his hand out for you. “Come here,” he said softly. You buried your face in his neck and sobbed, recounting everything that happened to you that day as he smoothed your hair and rubbed your back. “I’m here. I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you like that ever again.”

When you pulled away, you saw his own eyes glistening with tears. “And I won’t tell anyone,” he said, wiping the tear from your cheek. Without thinking, you leaned up and kissed him, thankful that someone you loved knew the whole you.


End file.
